


The Groomsmen

by jublke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Fear of Flying, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 03:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jublke/pseuds/jublke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could possibly convince Dean Winchester to step foot on another plane? He and Sam are injured, and Bobby's expecting them. At his wedding. </p><p>Set after Dean is raised from Hell, but before Sam loses his soul. AU because Bobby has a love life with someone who isn't a zombie.</p><p>Rated T for Dean's foul mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a simple story about Dean's fear of flying. But he refused to get on the plane unless I gave him a very good reason and beat him up a little. 
> 
> This is unfinished for now. Hopefully, the muse will strike again. Unbeta'ed. If you'd like to beta for me sometime, or know where I can find a willing beta, please leave me a comment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Dean sat in the airport terminal, legs outstretched, leaning back in one seat in a linked row of chairs near gate C-10. To an outsider, the man appeared relaxed, but Sam saw right through his brother's posture. Dean was clenching his jaw so tightly that anyone within a three foot radius could have heard his teeth grinding together. He gave his big brother the cardboard cup holder with two of four slots filled. 

"Thanks, Sammy." Once Sam had folded himself into the seat beside him, Dean handed Sam the latte before taking the coffee for himself. 

"They call for preboard yet?" Sam asked. He blew on his drink to cool it.

Dean shook his head as he took a sip. His hand was trembling; a few drops of coffee sploshed on Sam's jeans. "Shit! Sorry." In his haste to stop dripping hot liquid on Sam, Dean jerked the styrofoam cup back and accidentally splashed himself as well. 

As his brother cursed, Sam set his cup down and fished around in his pocket for a wad of napkins. He handed them to Dean, gave his brother's shoulder a quick squeeze, and picked up his latte again. _Relax, Dean._

Dean met Sam's concerned gaze, then rolled his eyes with a huff. Sam interpreted this gesture easily: _I'm trying, bitch._

Sam returned the eyeroll as well as he could under the circumstances, his face contorting awkwardly. _Jerk._

The edges of his brother's lips lifted briefly. Sam counted it as a win. Anything to ease Dean's fear of flying.

There was an announcement over the loudspeaker. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've got maintenance working on that little repair to the landing gear. We'll start boarding here in a few minutes. Thank you for your continued patience." 

One of Dean's legs began tapping and he rubbed the back of his neck as if to ease the tension building there. "Remind me again why we're doing this?" he asked Sam, wrapping his flannel-clad arms into a tight knot over his chest.

Sam regarded him patiently. "We promised Bobby," he said, softly. "And neither of us is in any shape to drive."

Dean snorted and unfolded his arms just long enough to fling them apart in a gesture of pure irritation, taking in Sam's black eye, stitched cheek, and sprained wrist, as well as his own jacked up knee, which presently required his right leg to be locked straight in a brace. "Understatement of the year, Sammy. Like he's going to want us there looking like this."

Sam raised one eyebrow; his injured eye was swollen shut. 

"I know, I know," Dean said irritably. "It's not every day a man gets married."

Sam smiled; he couldn't help himself. Bobby had finally found someone to love him, someone who accepted his eccentricities and hunting lifestyle, a special lady who didn't begrudge him memories of his first wife. Dean had doused her with holy water when they had first met last Thanksgiving - surely a woman who could tame Bobby Singer must be of supernatural origins.

But no. Beth had passed every test they'd thrown at her and she'd even baked four pies for the occasion, including pecan and cherry for her new "sons". Sam suspected that the promise of a home-baked pie might be the only reason that his big brother had agreed to board a plane today.

"Shoulda had Cas beam us there," Dean grumbled, but Sam could hear the undercurrent of worry. Cas had returned to Heaven a few weeks back to deal with pressing business back home. He hadn't elaborated, but the sad blue eyes and accompanying wince when he had told the Winchesters about his plans had left no doubt that he didn't see the trip as welcome or voluntary. They hadn't heard from him since.

"Maybe he'll make the wedding," Sam said hopefully, but he didn't really believe it. 

Dean shook his head and tipped the rest of his coffee down his throat. "Don't hold your breath." A flash of something crossed his face then - worry mixed with fondness and a touch of admiration, Sam suspected - before Dean slipped the mask back on. Sam didn't entirely understand the unique relationship that his brother had with his angel, but he didn't mind. Cas had saved Dean from Hell; he would always be family.

"Okay, folks, we're ready to begin boarding. If you need special assistance and have a blue preboard ticket, please come to the gate now."

Using his good arm, Sam helped Dean to his feet. Fortunately, his brother was able to walk with the knee brace as long as he didn't bend the joint. Not so fortunately, the spirit that had thrown them down a flight of stairs had given Dean a concussion as well. His brother was on the mending side, but he swayed visibly at his change in position. "You all right?" Sam gripped Dean's elbow and the older man finally regained his balance.

Dean swallowed and nodded. His face was pale, making his freckles stand out across his nose and cheeks. "Just peachy," he replied, voice hoarse. Sam gave him his good arm to hang on to as they slowly made their way to the ticket agent.

The attractive young blond woman at the gate made a clucking noise as the hunters approached her. "My goodness," she said, taking the blue voucher from them. "What happened to you two?"

Both men lied, their answers overlapping.

"Car accident," said Sam seriously, at the same time Dean smiled and replied, "He tripped me." That response should have earned Dean a full-out bitch face, but Sam couldn't move his facial muscles around too much or he'd pull on his newly acquired stitches.

The sympathetic clucking continued, along with a shake of her head in Sam's direction. "I hope you feel better soon, hon." The reply, complete with dazzling smile, was just for Dean. Sam huffed alongside him, shaking his head. "Have a good flight!" she called after them.

It was wrong, Sam knew it was wrong, but he took a tiny amount of pleasure when Dean's face paled at the word "flight." _Serves him right, making up a story like that._ But when Sam realized that Dean's breathing had sped up, any sense of mirth left him. "Dean," he said quietly as they walked up the gangplank toward the plane. "Hey, look at me." His brother's green eyes were wide. "You need to calm down. Take some deep breaths."

Dean nodded, panting like an expectant mother.

It was going to be a long flight.


	2. The Plane Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Together, Sam and Dean manage to endure the plane flight to Bobby's wedding despite their various injuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to KeepCalm_WriteOn, TwistedDuck, sd_scoobydoo, and guests for leaving kudos on the previous chapter.
> 
> I had a lot of time on my hands today during my flight home - who better to inflict it on than Sam & Dean? 
> 
> Unbeta'd. I'm just borrowing the boys for fun.

With effort, the Winchester brothers took their seats. Dean's unused crutches (" _Don't need 'em, Sammy!_ ") had been stored in the front of the plane; in order to fit himself into the tight airline seat, Dean had to unlock his knee brace. His wrapped, swollen leg barely fit into the small space. Sam fared better until he sat down - between his black eye and one arm wrapped and secured in a sling, Dean had to help him locate and fasten his seatbelt as if he was five. Sam's knees, of course, were jammed tight against the seat in front of him.

A matronly brunette flight attendant, her hair piled high in a messy bun, fussed over them once they were seated. With her over-solicitous behavior, Sam wondered if she was the mother of the ticket collector. "Now, if you boys need anything, you just let me know." She indicated the call light above their heads, the silver of her airline wings lapel pin perfectly matching her silver bracelets and rings. Sam nodded politely with a small smile, but Dean appeared not to have heard her. "You okay there, honey?" she said, placing a well-manicured hand on Dean's shoulder, her bracelets jangling near his ear.

The older Winchester jumped at the touch. Sam knew it was because of Dean's anxiety - he didn't know why his brother had such a fear of flying, but their last escapade aboard an aircraft - which ended with the exorcism of a demon - surely hadn't helped matters any.

Sam answered for Dean. "We're fine, thanks." 

He subtly poked his brother in the ribs and Dean nodded up at her with a weak smile. "Peachy," Dean added.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean grumbled, "I hate flying. Remind me again why we can't drive?"

Sam rolled one eye. "Dean. We've been over this a million times already. I can't see. I only have one working wrist." He gestured with his sling. "You don't want me driving your baby like this. And you're recovering from knee surgery." He pointed at Dean's swollen leg. "If you put any weight on that joint, it won't heal properly and you can forget about hunting."

Dean shrugged. "So? Together we make a whole person." He grinned weakly. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

Sam sighed and watched the line of passengers boarding the aircraft. It didn't look like a full flight, and for that, he was grateful. Maybe he and Dean could have a row to themselves.

The flight attendant began her spiel about the seatbelt, lift up on the flap, yadda yadda. Sam tuned her out until he heard Dean panting next to him, eyes transfixed on the tubing and mask the woman held, his entire body rigid, focused in horror on the emergency oxygen mask.

"Hey, Dean." Sam grabbed his brother's arm with his good hand, interrupting Dean's rapt attention on the flight attendant's description of a water landing. "You got any painkillers on you?"

Dean drew his gaze to Sam instead, and Sam watched with relief as his brother's troubled eyes cleared from cloudy green to crystal emerald. Dean's brows crinkled together. "You okay there, Sammy?"

"Yeah. My arm hurts a bit," Sam admitted. He wasn't in enough pain that he would normally bother with taking any medication, but he knew that Dean needed the diversion. He hid a smile as his big brother groused and dug around in his carry-on bag. 

Dean took two pills himself with a sip of water and then handed an additional two pills to Sam along with the bottle. "There ya go, Princess." The cocky smirk was back. "What would you do without me?"

Sam shrugged, a gesture that flared a bolt of pain through his arm and caused him to wince. _Maybe I really do need those painkillers._ He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea spread across his gut. 

Dean must have seen Sam's face pale, because he gently and discretely rubbed his brother's back. Sam gulped down the pills with a slug of water before he leaned back in the seat. 

Soon, they were taxiing down the runway and Sam was breathing easier. Liftoff was his favorite part of flying, and he focused on the scenery as the tangle of cars, houses, and roads below them turned into miniature versions of themselves. 

Sam was just starting to relax when the plane bobbed with turbulence and he felt his brother tense next to him. Dean held the armrests in a death grip, his eyes closed. His face was ashen.

"Dean?" Sam reached out for him again. "You okay, man?"

His big brother swallowed hard, and nodded. "Bumped my leg." 

Sam winced in sympathy. At least he could strap his arm to his chest. Dean's sore knee was nearly brushing the seat in front of him. Another bump had Dean stifling a whimper as the injured joint hit the back of the seat again. Between his phobia and his injury, Sam knew Dean had no relief from the misery.

"Here," Sam said, indicating his own knees. "Rest your leg over mine."

Dean gave him a look that said _Not on your life._

Sam started to shrug, but thought better of it before he tweaked his arm again. "It's your leg, man."

Inspiration struck, and Sam reached a long arm up to hit the call button. When the flight attendant arrived, the younger Winchester gave her his best puppy-dog look. "Can I get a couple of blankets and a pillow, please?" he asked.

She smiled down at him, flashing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Sure thing, hon," she replied, squeezing his shoulder.

When she returned with the bedding, Sam gave her a wide smile. Once she had moved down the aisle, he dropped the forced smile and put the pillow on his lap. "Put your leg on me and then you can wrap up in this blanket," he ordered his brother.

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look. "You're outta your mind, Sammy." His brother shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

"Dean," Sam tried to reason with the stubborn man, "you're injured and you just got out of surgery. If you need to prop up your leg, do it. Who's around to care?"

Both brothers swiveled their heads to study the empty plane. Of their few fellow travelers, most were asleep. Sam gave Dean a triumphant smile.

"Fine," Dean muttered. Sitting at an angle, he gingerly lifted his leg and rested it on the pillow in Sam's lap. 

Sam saw the lines of tension ease from his brother's face. Of course, that was when the flight attendant had to return. "You boys all right?" she said, taking in their intimate posture with a knowing smile. Dean flushed scarlet. Sam knew that if it didn't hurt so much to move his leg, his brother would be across the plane by now.

Sam gave her a strained smile in return. "Fine," he replied, allowing a trace of irritation to seep into his words. He didn't want Dean to move; his brother finally appeared pain-free.

As soon as she had moved on, Dean glared at Sam. "Your ass is grass, bitch." But he didn't move his leg. 

Sam attempted to arrange the blankets over them both, but it was difficult with only one working hand. With a growl of irritation, Dean shook out one blanket and placed it over his brother. "You are such a girl."

Sam smiled and closed his eyes. "Jerk," he said with affection. Peeking out through his lashes, he made no comment when Dean unfurled the other blanket and wrapped it around himself. 

Soon, both Winchester brothers were sound asleep.


End file.
